Absolution
by Cithara
Summary: On the evening before they go into battle, Harry wrestles with his fears and turns to Severus for comfort.


**AN:** This was originally part of a compilation that I've decided to post separately. The usual applies - it's roughly AU from OotP onwards.

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Absolution

The kitchen of Grimmauld Place was silent as Harry sat at the long, wonky table, his head bowed low over a cup of tea he had long-since lost interest in. He had no idea what the time was, but he knew it was after midnight. He was alone in the house apart from Ron and Hermione, who had gone up to bed hours before. He couldn't blame them, they deserved some time alone together before…before the day ahead dawned and brought with it the end of things.

They were going into battle tomorrow, finally putting an end to the months of fighting and espionage, followed by painful weeks of attrition as everything seemed to grind to a halt as both sides reached a standoff. It seemed that no one could take it anymore and it had been decided that the Order was to make their final stand. Only, it wasn't the Order that was going to be making it Harry thought bitterly, it was him, it was all down to him.

He had always known it, in his heart of hearts, and despite the weeks and months of research that had preceded this moment, no one had been able to offer him any hope that there was another way for Voldemort to die other than by his hand. He had had long enough to prepare for it mentally, but finding himself on the eve of battle, he found that there was nothing inside him but the hollow rattle of fear.

He was terrified, though he had admitted it no one, and he would be damned if he did. He was only 19, and the weight of the wizarding world had been placed upon his shoulders. He felt inadequate under the burden of it and was horrified by the thought that he would surely buckle under the pressure of it all. There were so many people counting on him, so many lives that depended on his success, and he felt sick and dizzy at the thought that people would die if he failed.

His conscience could hardly cope under the strain of it and he wished there was something he could do to stop the tremble that kept shuddering through his entire body. He felt ashamed at his cowardice, but he could do nothing to temper it, feeling, not for the first time, that everyone had been sorely misguided in placing their hopes at his door.

He pinched the bridge of his nose and tried to bring his breathing under control, feeling his apprehension tingle all the way down to his fingertips. The fire suddenly roared loudly to his left and he rose from his chair abruptly, knocking his tea cup over and sending the remnants of his cold tea splattering over the table.

Severus stepped out of the flames and looked at Harry carefully for a moment before he said softly, "My apologies, I didn't mean to startle you."

"You didn't," Harry said, his voice rough, "I'm just…a little on edge."

The two men stared at each other, a few feet of distance between them, Harry horribly aware of his own pulse thundering loudly in his ears. His breathing was hard and his chest constricted uncomfortably.

"Why aren't you asleep?" Severus asked.

"Why are you here?" Harry asked, feeling that it was unnecessary to answer the man's question.

"I…" Severus began, then trailed off, looking down at his feet, his face paler than usual. The silence loomed until he finally looked up again then held out his hand to Harry, who took it with a fierce grip and allowed himself to be pulled into Severus' arms with a grateful sob.

"Ssh," Severus soothed as one hand held Harry close to his body while the other stroked his hair gently.

Harry broke down in harsh tears and sobbed into Severus' chest as he let himself be held, grateful for Severus' strength, for he had none of his own. The hand in his hair continued to move back and forth and he felt the other hand resting in the small of his back, steadying him, anchoring him to a reality that he wasn't sure he could cope with anymore.

"It's alright," Severus said softly, rubbing his cheek against Harry's head as Harry continued to cry, his body trembling in Severus' hold.

Harry fisted a hand in Severus' robes and clung on for dear life, wanting to stay that way forever, feeling safe, feeling protected, sheltered from a world that he had less and less understanding of. He buried his face in swathes of black fabric and breathed in the scent of soap and sandalwood, a scent that had become very familiar to him over the last few months.

"I'm sorry," Harry whispered into the man's chest. "I'm sorry."

"Don't apologise," Severus replied in the same muted tone. "You have nothing to be sorry for."

"I'm so frightened," Harry said as his sobbing began to subside.

"I know."

Harry stepped back and disentangled himself slightly, looking up at Severus through tear-filled eyes, his face hot and his skin prickling. He could feel the heat radiating from Severus' body and he wanted nothing more than to burrow himself against the man for the rest of his life.

"I think I might die tomorrow," he said, feeling as though he couldn't breathe.

"Don't say that," Severus said through gritted teeth.

"It's true, you know it is," Harry said, his voice catching as he felt a faint wave of hysteria wash over him.

Severus gripped him harshly by the shoulders and lowered his head to meet Harry's eyes. "I won't have you thinking that way, there's no better way of ensuring you'll meet your end on that battlefield."

"I can't find a way to stop thinking about it, I can't find anything that will drive it from my mind. Please…please take it away from me."

Severus shook his head sadly. "I'm not the right person to come to for rallying sentiment or words of encouragement."

Harry stepped a little closer and pressed his palms against Severus' chest. "I don't want words," he whispered, looking up at Severus with a silent plea. He couldn't control himself, couldn't hold back the fear and the vulnerability he felt, and he begged the heavens to hear the orisons he was screaming up at them.

"Harry," Severus, the word holding more tenderness and affection than Harry had ever heard, and something other than fear fluttered in his chest.

"Please…give me something to take into battle tomorrow, give me something to hold on to," he implored.

Black eyes bored into his own and Harry found himself unable to look away, not that he would have done even if he could. A surprisingly warm hand came to rest gently on his cheek and Harry felt himself falter under the tenderness of it. Severus slowly dipped his head until his lips met Harry's and Harry's senses sparked into awareness as cool lips brushed his own.

His slid his arms up to wind around Severus' neck and Severus held him tightly against his body, one hand in the small of his back, the other at the base of his neck, possessive yet gentle. Their lips moved softly against one another, touching, tempting, learning each other slowly and carefully.

Harry felt the hair on his arms and the back of his neck stand on end, and his heart pounded against his ribcage as Severus covered him in tenderness, chasing away all thoughts of what tomorrow would bring, all worries that there would be nothing for him beyond the day's events. It was the most heartbreakingly exquisite thing Harry had ever experienced, and he had never known that Severus could be capable of such gentleness.

He was drowning in the man, letting him have every part of himself, desperate to give it over, to have the responsibility of his own mind taken away from him. He only realised that he was crying when he began to taste his own tears mingled in with the taste of Severus' kiss.

Severus pulled away but kept Harry close to him, brushing his tears away with his thumbs. "Don't," he said, a gentle directive but one that was meant.

"Don't leave me alone," Harry said, feeling his tears sting the skin of his cheeks.

"I won't," Severus said, continuing to eradicate the salty tracks that marred Harry's face.

"I need you," Harry whispered. "I want you. I want us to…Please…please make love to me."

"No," Severus said, stepping back slightly and placing a little distance between them. "I've already told you I won't."

"Why?" Harry asked, feeling his heart twist inside his chest.

Severus gripped his shoulders once more and all the tenderness of the previous moment was gone, replaced by steely resolve. "Because there will be a day after tomorrow," he said harshly, his eyes bright and focused intently on Harry. "I won't make love to you like this, I won't say goodbye to you."

"But – "

"One day," Severus said, his hand back on Harry's cheek, "one day I will take you to my bed and I will spend hours making love to you. I will learn every inch of your skin, every touch that makes you writhe with pleasure, every kiss that makes you beg for more. I won't let the first time I have you be marred with desperation and the spectre of war looming over our heads, I won't use the experience as way of making you think that it's all we'll ever have."

"We'll have more?" Harry asked, too frightened to let the ember of hope spark into flames inside his chest.

"We'll have everything," Severus promised, his expression fierce, "because you are going to live beyond tomorrow. There is no other outcome that I will accept."

Harry laughed in spite of himself and shook his head. "Death doesn't stand a chance against you."

"The only force I have ever buckled under is you."

Harry swallowed hard around a lump in his throat and met Severus' eyes as well as he was able. "Do you love me?" he asked, feeling that he knew the answer, somewhere deep within himself.

"More than I thought my heart could allow."

Tears sprang afresh in Harry's eyes, but this time they were tears of elation and he let them fall happily. Severus wrapped him up in a fierce embrace and Harry clung on for dear life, praying that Severus' faith in a future that he couldn't envision would one day be rewarded.

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Severus stared down at the grave at his feet, a single red rose in his hand that he had yet to place by the headstone. To acknowledge that he was gone was too painful, too bizarre for his mind to fully comprehend.

It didn't make sense, it wasn't the way things were supposed to go, and he found himself cut adrift in a world that made little sense to him. For so long the man had been a constant in his life, even when he hadn't loved and respected him, and to accept that he was now gone was something that he just wasn't ready for.

The wind battered against his battle-weary body cruelly, and he felt its coldness in the tears that had made their way down his face. He was tired, more tired than he had ever been in his life, and he felt the weariness all the way to his bones. He wanted to crawl into bed and draw the covers up over his head and hide as he had done as a child. He wanted to pretend than none of it had ever happened, that there wasn't so much black wretchedness in the world to contend with.

He had been prepared to fight for his world, but he hadn't been prepared for so much loss, for the ache that had taken up residence in his chest and threatened to never leave. He hadn't been able to conceive a world after the war and he didn't know how to live in the existence that had been forged.

He felt a gentle presence by his side, then a hand slipped into his own and squeezed, and suddenly the painful constriction around his chest lessened somewhat.

"He wouldn't want you to stand by his grave like this."

"He wouldn't have wanted a lot of things that have happened," Severus said, his voice sounding alien to his own ears.

"He was the best of us all, the world will always be in his debt."

"It just doesn't make sense to me."

"War is senseless. We fight to save something, and always end up suffering unbearable loss in the process."

"When did you become so wise?" Severus asked, turning to face Harry finally, giving in to the urge to take the man in his arms, revelling in being able to do so.

"I had a couple of very good teachers," Harry replied softly. "I've had more loss than I can bear, Severus," he said, holding himself tightly against Severus' body. "I've had enough fighting to last me a lifetime, and I want nothing more than to start living my life. I only want to do that by your side."

"I'm to be burdened with you, am I?" Severus asked, and Harry smiled at him.

"You promised me everything, and I intend to reap the dividends of that promise."

Severus heaved a dramatic sigh and said, "I suppose this means you want a ring on your finger?"

"That'll do for starters," Harry said with a grin, which softened into a tender smile. "I never imagined that I'd have the opportunity to face a future with you, and now that I have, I want to grab it with both hands. I want to be your husband, your lover, your friend. I want everything and more."

Severus pulled Harry as close to him as possible and met his lips in a kiss that bordered on reverent. The two men savoured the pleasure of each other, of knowing that they were loved and that that love would endure beyond the trials life threw at them. They broke apart and rested their foreheads together, drawing comfort and solace from one another.

"Come on," Harry said gently, "let's get out of here. Life can't start in a graveyard."

Severus took one last look at the grave and finally let the rose fall to the ground. "Goodbye Albus," he whispered, then let Harry lead him away, ready to face whatever the road ahead would bring him.

~_The anguish of the earth absolves our eyes_  
_Till beauty shines in all that we can see._  
_War is our scourge; yet war has made us wise,_  
_And, fighting for our freedom, we are free._

_Horror of wounds and anger at the foe,_  
_And loss of things desired; all these must pass._  
_We are the happy legion, for we know_  
_Time's but a golden wind that shakes the grass._

_There was an hour when we were loath to part_  
_From life we longed to share no less than others._  
_Now, having claimed this heritage of heart,_  
_What need we more, my comrades and my brothers?_

~ Absolution, Siegfried Sassoon

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**AN: **One day, I'll write some real angst, then you'll all be sorry. Hope you enjoyed it, please leave a review and let me know.


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